


*insert bs poetic title here*

by Blue_Rive



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, doctor will i ever write a oneshot thats not a character study separated into pointless vignettes, i named the griffin child emerson, lit has terrible luck, lit needs a hug, sir thats my emotional support griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Rive/pseuds/Blue_Rive
Summary: Power, powerBlows my mind to think I ever let you hold it over me





	*insert bs poetic title here*

**Author's Note:**

> eeeeeeeeeh i kinda dislike this but the world needs more lit/waystation crew fic so here you go

It had been a little more than half a year since Lityerses’ old life had fallen apart. (Not that it was much of one anyway.) 

After Leo Valdez’s friend had got him turned into a statue - despite how much Lityerses hated it, he had to admit that if that didn’t happen he probably would have died for a second time just as disagreeable as the first- after Jason had tricked his father to turn him into a statue, Lit had woken up to a half-demolished house and his sister glaring at him. 

He backed away, hand clenched around his sword hilt. “Zoe- I can explain-”

Zoe’s gaze flicked down to his sword. She made a noise of disgust and shoved him. “Leave. Now.”

Lit had nodded and fled. He still wondered why she hadn’t killed him. He was scared and taken off guard. She could have defeated him. She had every reason to. But she didn’t. He’d tried to find her, to talk to her, afterwards, but there were too many Zoes on Google to search through and when he tried to track her the old fashioned way it was like she’d vanished without a trace. Probably never wanted to speak to him again. That was fair. 

Unnerved and with nowhere to go, he’d tried to journey to where Gaea was planning on rising. Even though he was on the monster’s side, he was still a demigod, and demigods attracted all sorts of bad attention. He’d managed to take a normal, mortal ship there and showed up exhausted and with a few new scars, only for Gaea to be summoned by a nosebleed and killed by  _ Leo fucking Valdez.  _ Lit was starting to think the universe hated him.

A sleazy-looking man in a purple suit who reminded Lityerses too much of his father had approached him after that catastrophe. 

“You’re one of Gaea’s demigods, am I right?” 

“I’m my own demigod,” Lit snapped. “But she is my patron.”

“We’ve been recruiting… promising fighters.” He looked over Lityerses, making his skin crawl. “Have you heard of the Triumvirate?” 

Lit  _ had  _ heard about them. Some shady corporation funding Gaea. His father had hated them, he remembered suddenly. He’d complained that Gaea shouldn’t need them with him there. 

“I’m in,” Lit decided.

Nero had smiled and sent him to join Commodus in the Midwest. (Nebraska and Indiana- wow, he was really going places.)

He’d moved up in the rankings and tried to make a name for himself, only to get trapped under a canopy, trampled by ostriches, shot with an arrow, nearly killed by the person he’d sworn allegiance to, and decided maybe joining the Triumvirate wasn’t the  _ best  _ choice he’d ever made. 

Lit sighed, sheathing his swords. He’d been practicing in his room in the Waystation for the last half hour. (He had a room there. He was staying there. Lit could hardly wrap his head around it. You only get treated well if you’re a likable person, and he was pretty sure he was as far from  _ that  _ as you could get. He was still waiting for them to yell ‘APRIL FOOLS!’ and kill him, or at least kick him out.)

Emmie poked her head in the door. “Lit! There you are!” She noticed his swords and sighed. “You shouldn’t need to fight so much here, you know. We aren’t going to make you kill people like your father and Commodus.”

_ His father…  _ Lit fixed the bandanna keeping his hair in place and followed Emmie. “You might need protection.”

“My wife has a submachine gun,” Emmie said, amusement evident in her voice. “I think we can handle ourselves.”

What was he supposed to do, then? He needed to do  _ something  _ to pay them for showing him so much kindness, and fighting was the only thing he knew how to do. He was unequivocally the best at it. Things were less confusing when he was fighting. Kill the opponent, yay, no pesky goodness or morals problems involved, everyone cheers. Or at least, his father gives him an approving look and doesn’t ‘accidentally’ turn him into a statue. 

Lit didn’t say any of that, though, and instead countered with, “But it’s my  _ thing.  _ I’m a child of Demeter. Fighting- reaping- is what I do.” He twirled his sword as a demonstration. 

Hemithea’s expression was unreadable. She changed course, taking Lit off guard, but he kept following her. The Waystation was a bit of a maze to him still, but he thought the way they were going now led to the rooftop garden, which made no sense whatsoever. Lit didn’t  _ garden.  _

They emerged out into the fresh air. Lityerses glanced around nervously. They  _ were  _ on the rooftop garden, surrounded by plants. Emmie kneeled down, and Lit followed her example, glaring at the tomato plant a few inches from his face. “What’re we doing up here?” 

Emmie gestured to a strawberry patch. “Do you think you can make it bloom?” 

Lit raised an eyebrow. “Why me? I can’t make plant stuff happen like Meg.”

“Have you tried?”

Lityerses couldn’t say anything to that. He touched his hand to it and concentrated.  _ God, how did Meg and Grover do it?  _ Closing his eyes, he imagined the bud unfurling and turning into a flower, then a strawberry. He opened his eyes-

Nothing had happened. Of course. Of  _ fucking  _ course. “See!” Lit waved at the plant. “I can’t do it!” 

“It just takes practice,” Emmie said. 

“How do  _ you  _ know? You’re not a demigod.” Lit got up. “I’m going to do… something else. I can get Calypso to help you if you want that.”

Maybe you had to have a certain state of mind to grow plants. Meg didn’t strike Lit as the nicest person, but she had the whole  _ everything deserves to live  _ thing. (Which, to Apollo, somehow included Lit.) 

It seemed like a long shot, but maybe Lit  _ could  _ practice. Or maybe that was bullshit and he should go back to killing people. 

Either way, the Waystation pointedly gave him a strawberry pot in his room next time he went in and dropped a brick on him when he tried to throw it out. Which was just  _ rude.  _ But if even the sentient building agreed with Emmie, he might as well try to grow something.

\-------

Lit was having a bad day. He hadn’t slept all night, and Jo had cut off his caffeine supply after the third cup of black coffee. “Go to sleep,” she’d told him firmly.  _ But then I’ll have nightmares--  _ He had a piercing headache and he’d walked into a doorframe and the strawberry plant had refused to grow even a single bud and the Triumvirate were planning something big according to Georgie,  _ who was still seeing the future and no, that did not make her well-adjusted.  _

And then Jo touched a firm hand to his shoulder to say something reassuring, and it was too fucking familiar and he couldn’t-- he just couldn’t-- and he’d panicked and fled and he had his head under the sink faucet for five minutes before he felt like himself and not a stupid numb golden statue.

He might have a problem, but he didn’t know-- exactly --what it was. Midas had been a terrible father - he hadn’t turned Lit to gold much on  _ purpose,  _ per se, but Lit always had the feeling that that was because he needed Lit, not- not because he wanted him. Not because he loved him. One day, he’d been complaining about how much gold Gaea’s forces needed and how it was  _ impossible  _ to keep up business on the side, and he needed more things to change, and he’d looked over Lit like he was calculating how much a gold statue of a teenager would make. He had bad days, and he’d turn Lityerses to gold because he couldn’t deal with a kid and everything else right then, but the good days were just as bad because he’d pretend to have some semblance of being a father, and he’d put a hand on Lit’s shoulder or arm to say something, and then the gold was creeping up his arm and he couldn’t feel anything and he didn’t know how time worked and--

He’d asked, panicked, how long it had been, back when he thought his father might still care because he’d brought him back from a statue, not like-- not like his sister-- and Midas had said, offhand, ‘Oh, a week or two? I didn’t want to go through all the work of reviving you and it just slipped my mind, you know how it is, now there’s some  _ very  _ annoying half-bloods outside, would you mind killing them, that’s my boy-’ and he’d had to keep his expression calm but that’s about when he’d figured out no one cared about him, not really. 

And sure, there was a rational part in the corner of his mind that said Jo’s touch hadn’t been like that, but Commodus’ definitely had been when he dragged Lityerses into the path of the arrow so you didn’t need the golden touch to hurt him and maybe this was their plan all along, because no one could really care about him as much as Hemithea and Josephine seemed to. 

… maybe he should go see the griffins. He’d been taking care of them lately. After all, he’d gotten Heloise killed. He needed to do  _ something  _ to apologize. And being with them helped him feel better. He was pretty sure at least little griffin chick Emerson didn’t secretly hate him, and his feathers were so  _ soft.  _

Lit turned off the sink and dried his hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  _ God,  _ he looked like a mess. His hair was everywhere, he’d lost his bandanna somewhere, and the dark circles under his eyes could probably establish their own nation-state. 

He sighed and went upstairs to talk to the griffins. 

They had their own room in the Waystation, covered in hay with perches and an open skylight. Usually they’d be out flying, but Abelard had been staying in the Waystation more lately to watch over his chick. 

Emerson-- Jo had named him, Lit guessed. Mostly what he could remember about the argument was that Leo should not get to name anything ever-- Emerson crawled into Lit’s lap, nosing curiously at his sword. Right, griffins liked gold, and his sword had gotten changed one time when he was holding it. 

...he did not need to think about that right now.

Lit pushed Emerson gently away and scritched him underneath his neck. “Don’t eat the sword, I need that.”

Emerson looked up at him with wide innocent eyes.  _ I’d never do that Lit, who do you think I am.  _ He managed to stay away from the sword for approximately four seconds before trying to eat it again. Lit patiently moved him away. “Stop that.” 

Emerson paused, apparently swayed by that argument. Instead, he sunk his claws into Lit’s shirt and pulled himself up, leaving tiny holes in it, and settled himself happily on top of Lit’s head. 

Abelard moved closer to watch his chick, and Lit tiredly leaned his head against the older griffin. “What am I going to do?” 

Abelard made a sound deep in his throat, like he was answering.

“Thanks.” 

At some point he must have drifted off, because he woke up to Olujime standing in the door. “So you’re a griffin whisperer as well as a swordsman?”

Jamie always sounded deadpan, so it was hard to pick out when he’s joking, but Lit’s pretty sure that was one. 

“I think they can smell the residual gold on me.” Someone had put a blanket on him at some point. He was unsure how to feel about that. “What time is it?” 

Jamie glanced at his watch. “Six-thirty-two. You missed lunch.” 

“ _ What?”  _ Lit hated losing track of time. 

“Hey, calm down.” He studied Lityerses closer. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t-- why are you asking?”

“You panicked. I thought I should leave you alone for a bit, but now you seem all right to talk to.”

Lit frowned. “Why do you care? I thought you hated me.” 

Olujime leaned on the doorframe. “I don’t. Did you think I hated you all this time? I disliked you at first, but I thought about it a bit and well, I worked for Commodus too. I’d be a hypocrite.”

“You didn’t know what you were getting into. I did.” 

“Even that he’d try to kill you?” 

Lit shrugged blandly. “Kind of expected it, to be honest.” 

Olujime opened his mouth, then closed it. “Dinner’s in ten minutes. Do you want me to stay here?”

“I--” Lit stuttered. “I guess? If you want to?” 

Jamie sat down crosslegged next to Abelard. Emerson wandered over to investigate him, nipping at his suit. 

The door creaked open again, and Lit looked up. Leo was standing there, anxiously ruffling his hair. “Hey dude, do you, uh, want to talk?”

“What is it with all the people coming in here to talk to me!” Lit complained out loud. 

“Cause we care about you,” Leo said, then paused long enough to make Lityerses nervous. “I think you’re  _ lit.”  _

“Get out.”

Leo laughed. “Nah, but seriously, you good?” 

“I don’t know,” Lit said quietly. He noticed Jamie listening curiously and elaborated. “I don’t like being touched.” 

A million emotions seemed to flicker across Leo’s face. “Oh. ...Running water undoes the golden touch, right?”

Lit bit his lip and nodded.

“ _ Fuck.”  _ Leo said. “I’ll tell Jo not to do that.”

“It’s okay,” Lit said, “most days. I was just… really tired.”

“Still, if you don’t like it, we won’t do it. Even if that means I have to forsake poking you every ten seconds to annoy you.”

Leo had, in fact, made that a habit. It definitely was not as bad as a hand on his shoulder, but Lit wasn’t about to say that. Anything that made Leo less annoying he’d be game for.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

_ We care about you.  _ Right now, Lit felt like he could actually believe that. 

\----

“You remind me of my sister,” Lit said to Georgie one day without thinking. 

They were out wandering around in blemmyae-and-American infested Indianapolis. Even after the Throne of Memory and the destruction of the oracle, Georgie still sometimes seemed stuck in a vision, pacing around and around in circles like she was sleepwalking. Emmie thought maybe a change of scene would be good for her, and some genius had decided to put the Turkish demigod from ancient times who knew nothing about modern civilization on babysitting duty. ( _ Cars.  _ Lit hated them. Flying around at much too fast speeds and  _ that one almost hit Georgie, what the hell, do you  _ want _ to get your head chopped off, mystery driver-) _

Georgie tilted her head quizzically. “Sister?”

“Uh, yeah. Her name’s Zoe. She… she was three years younger than me, but there’s got to be at least a four year difference now. She was bouncy, talkative…” he sighed. “I used to think she was kind of annoying, but…”

_ But Dad did too. _

Lit had been following her through the castle, ducking through hall after hall. 

“We’ve been here,” he’d pointed out. “This is where we live.”

“There’s probably a secret tunnel somewhere,” Zoe said, “or a labyrinth. All good castles have them. Plus, I’m bored.”

Lit frowned skeptically, but followed her. He’d been thirteen, and Zoe was about ten. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t know.” She peeked through a door crack. “Hey, I found the treasury.”

Lit pulled her back. “What are you doing? Dad’ll kill us for going in there.”

She shrugged him off. “He doesn’t care and you know it. I wanna  _ see.” _

Lit realized now, thinking back, that one of the fancy pieces of pottery along the hall looked like it’d been newly covered in gold frost, shining harshly as the light hit it. It was like- what was the term?- fridge logic. It seems find then, but you think back on it, and you wish Dionysus had never granted that favor.

He and Georgie had been walking in silence for a bit now, her humming a little to herself. 

“Trophonius thinks he’s my brother,” she said unexpectedly after a few blocks. “I don’t like him, but I’d like if Agamenthus was my brother. And ‘Pollo and Leo say I’d have other siblings at New York.”

“Mm. You know, I’ve never been to Camp Half-Blood.”

Georgie frowned. “You haven’t?”

“No. And I’m supposed to have siblings there too. All I’ve met is Meg.” 

Georgie pulled her hand out of his grasp and crossed her arms rebelliously. “I don’t like Meg. She was with the Tri… Tree… the emperors.”

“So was I,” Lit pointed out. 

“But you’re nice.” Georgie nodded as if that settled the argument and continued skipping along. 

“Nah.” Lit gave her a twisted smile. “I’m about as far from nice as you can get.”

Georgie pouted. “You just say that ‘cause you’re emo.”

This startles Lityerses enough to make him actually laugh. (A few strangers give them odd looks, like they’re just realizing  _ that kid has too many scars  _ and  _ why are they talking in an extinct language? _ )

“You’ve been talking to Leo too much,” Lit told Georgie once he managed to get his laughter under control. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Then how do you know I’m wrong?”

“You haven’t denied you got that from Leo yet, so probably inaccurate and also terrible.”

Georgie huffed. “You just don’t like him.”

“I don’t like anyone,” Lit said, grinning. “Because I’m mean and evil.”

“You like Apollo,” Georgie points out like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I can tell. Hey, would that make us related?”

Lit hopes to the gods he’s not blushing. “I do not! And we’re already related.” He pauses. “I think.”

He stopped on someone’s strip-of-dirt-on-the-sidewalk garden. “Hey, check this out. I’ve been practicing.” 

He closed his eyes and concentrated, managing to make a strawberry plant cover a few more inches. “See? I’m amazing.”

Georgie giggled.

_ This is about as far from my old life as you can get.  _ Lit ruffled Georgie’s hair.  _ I think I’ll be okay here. _

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos appreciated!  
...taking title suggestions.


End file.
